


Missed Signals

by LustOnMyFingers



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boatsex AU, Dany shoots her shot, F/M, Flirting, Jon just doesn't get it, Jonerys, Just absurdity, Missed signals, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28381788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustOnMyFingers/pseuds/LustOnMyFingers
Summary: We sail together. At the time, Jon Snow felt certain he'd caught the queen's implication—at least until he boarded her ship. Now she seems to have lost all interest.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 57
Kudos: 147





	Missed Signals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheScarletGarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheScarletGarden/gifts).



> Who's up for a smutless Boatsex AU?! _*squints*_ ... Oh, literally just Scarlet? The gal who shows up to every one of my fics even when I tell her not to? Well, that's great news, love, 'cause this one's for you! ♥🤣
> 
> Inspired by a hilarious reddit thread about blatant women, oblivious men, and missed signals. Why? Because it's 2020—and after ending the year by face-planting on my treadmill, I could use a laugh.

* * *

_We sail together._

Jon thought he knew what the words meant when the queen had spoken them. Aboard the ship, he had all the time in the world to agonize over their every interaction, to wonder when it was that her interest in him receded and why.

Lord Tyrion had accused him once of brooding. There was no better word to describe how he felt now, staring across the endless sea as the sun crowned on the horizon.

"You had better be careful, my lord." The queen appeared beside him. She had joined him on the deck, so close their hands brushed together as they gripped the railing.

"Your concern is appreciated, Your Grace. But the waters are calm this morning. We're hardly in danger of falling overboard."

"I should think not," she agreed, smiling. "But it's your behavior I'm worried about. Seems especially callous from an otherwise thoughtful man."

" _Behavior_?" he furrowed his brow. "What behavior?"

She pressed her lips together as if holding back a laugh. "Smuggling a pair of perfectly good hams in those trousers while the rest of us subsist on stale bread and brined beef."

Jon blinked. " _Hams_ ?" It was _quite_ the accusation. One he _certainly_ wasn't guilty of.

The queen raised her brows. She held onto the railing tightly and leaned back to, seemingly, take another gander at his backside, perhaps in an effort to confirm her ridiculous and unfounded claims.

Feeling suddenly insecure in just his gambeson, Jon flushed and stood straight. "With respect, I subsist on the same lackluster provisions as everyone else," he assured her.

"Speaking of provisions," she said, and licked her lips, "How about breaking fast with your queen?"

It wasn't the offer he'd hoped for, but it was one he couldn't refuse.

Daenerys walked ahead of him. Stiff dress. Silver waves. Tapered waist. Flared hips swaying. A feast in her own right. Exactly the kind he had a taste for. An over-the-shoulder glance caught him mid-gawk, drawing his eyes back up as they entered the mess cabin together.

The regulars were already seated around the small table when they arrived, surrounded by the usual spread—bowls of tasteless oat porridge, plates of stale biscuits, jars of pickled fish, and, _as always_ , brined beef.

Lord Tyrion first greeted the queen, "Your Grace," then Jon, "My lord."

He waited until she took a seat between her Hand and most trusted advisor, Missandei, then he chose the seat across from her. Her presence spurred an idle servant into motion, supplying the pair with their usual—wine for her and ale for him.

Daenerys waved at the scant selection before them. "Is this all we have?"

Her advisors exchanged confused looks—because _yes_ , of course it was—as she met Jon's eyes from across the table and winked.

"I have a sudden taste for ham."

_A shame_ , Jon thought. For she still had another week or more at sea.

. . .

Days lapsed. And each morning felt almost maddening sat across from the queen as they broke fast. The accidental bumps of her foot under the table. The way she held his gaze as she licked the wine from her lips and stroked the stem of her glass...

"You look tired this morning, my lord," she commented. "How did you sleep?"

"Fitfully, Your Grace," he admitted. And fretting over her all night certainly hadn't helped.

"If, perhaps, you find your accommodations _lacking_ ," she said, then lowered her voice, "I might suggest _my_ cabin tonight."

"A gracious offer, my queen," Jon smiled. "But where would you sleep?"

Beside her, Lord Tyrion choked on his wine. She shot her Hand a cold glare.

"Where, indeed?" she wondered aloud, bringing her glass to her lips to empty it.

Ser Jorah's eyes jumped from Jon to Daenerys, strangely expectant. "Your Grace, I-" he interrupted, "I slept fitfully, as well."

Tyrion coughed again, this time to disguise a laugh.

Daenerys let out a sigh. "I'm afraid the Lord of Winterfell raises an excellent point. Unwise of me to offer my own cabin without finding alternative accommodations for myself, first."

Jon scowled. Leave it to Mormont to spin a simple kindness into some sort of solicitation. It was neither the first time he'd done it nor would it be the last, Jon knew. Each time the man took a shot and missed, it only hindered his own attempts. And he was running out of time.

. . .

"There you are, my lord."

"Your Grace," Jon greeted, rising to his feet as she took a seat beside him.

Indeed, the queen had found him. Up late in the mess cabin with Ser Davos, discussing their course of action upon finally reaching White Harbor the following morning.

"I was hoping to find you before you retired."

Her knee bumped his and his pulse sped.

"I even checked your cabin," she confessed. His heart skipped a beat as her hand slipped over his thigh.

Jon swallowed. _Words_. He should say some. If only he remembered any.

"Will you be awake a while?"

He let out a breath he'd been holding too long. "I suspect not. We were just finishing up."

She batted her lashes and met his eyes. "Would you like to be?"

"We're docking pretty early tomorrow," he shrugged.

She frowned. "I see."

He was exhausted. But since she'd searched all over for him, he could spare a few moments for his queen, at least. "What did you need me for?"

"I've been thinking about what you said. That it's important for the northerners to see us as allies."

Jon nodded. "What were your thoughts?"

"We've already sailed together to White Harbor, per your suggestion," she began. "Why not ride the kingsroad together, too? Side by side, as equals. To help solidify our message."

"That might give the impression we're, _well_ ," he waved a finger between them, " _Together_ ," he said. "As queen and king."

Her brows sloped upward and she searched his eyes. "Would that be so bad?"

"Maybe not," he said and heaved a sigh. He could almost feel himself pout. "But it would give the wrong impression."

The queen's eyes fell. Her hand left his thigh. "Of course," she said, offering a polite smile. "My apologies. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Before he could say another word, she was up and out of her seat.

  
Ser Davos let out a low whistle once she was gone from the room and out of earshot. "Tenacious, that one," he quietly commented. "You really ought to reject her firmly, else she might keep tryin'. Won't be so cute at Winterfell."

Jon could hardly believe his ears. " _Reject_ her?"

Davos blinked. "You've been spurnin' her attempts for days."

The insinuation appalled him. "Attempts at _what_?" he scoffed. "I don't know what you're on about."

The old man's eyes narrowed as he examined Jon's face. After a moment, he seemed to find whatever it was he'd been looking for, and laughed. " _Gods_ ," he said. "You're a great many things, Your Grace, but I never took you for _daft_."

Jon folded his arms and glared.

"The queen just asked if you'd be awake a while."

"Aye, _and_?"

Davos lifted a brow. " _And_ whether you'd _like_ to be."

His eyes went wide. _No_. The past several days flashed before his eyes. How she'd linger above deck, griping about the cold and shivering, and how he suggested she go back inside to warm up. How, when she had asked him back to her cabin for wine, he declined since he wasn't thirsty. _My gods_ , he cringed. In hindsight, it seemed so obvious.

Jon was up and out of his chair so fast it fell backward. He crashed through the door, jogging below deck until he reached her cabin. By then, he was out of breath and heaving, his heartbeat fast and erratic. 

Before even catching his breath, he pounded a fist into her door. The moments spent wondering whether she'd answer felt like agony. His palms began to sweat. He rubbed his shaking hands on his clothing and waited.

_Finally_ , the door opened. The queen stood opposite him, gorgeous as ever in the glow of the candlelight, almost shocked to see it was him on the other side.

The king, using just his eyes, attempted to express the depths of both his ignorance and regret. He might've uttered an apology if he weren't so afraid of his own mouth and what sort of unintentional rebuffs might spill out of it.

  
Taking pity on him, the queen smiled. By the grace of the gods—the old _and_ the new, no doubt—she opened the door and stepped aside enough to let him through.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for stopping by! ♥


End file.
